Dogwoods In Yosemite

Spring is almost here. (Or at least we wish it were almost here!) When I think of Spring, I can't help but think of Yosemite. As a kid, we would go to Yosemite each Spring with my grandparents. To my grandfather, Yosemite was sacred ground. It was his temple. I clearly remember him pointing, with his crippled hand, to each waterfall, each mountain peak, each unique feather of the valley, then crossing his arms and smiling with great satisfaction as he breathed in the sweet, clean mountain air. He was old and crippled with gout, but just being in the valley brought life back to him. You could see in his eyes that he was in heaven.

At night we would sit on the porch of our rented cabin at Camp Curry and wait for the firefall to begin. "Hello, Camp Curry!" a voice echoed from the high a top Glacier Point. "Hello, Glacier Point!" a voice echoed back. Then someone on Glacier Point would push a fire over the 3000 foot cliff.


A ribbon of fire would cascade down the face of Glacier Point, lighting the night sky. It seemed magical to a six year old kid.
Sunday morning was always the best. We would stroll through the valley looking at all the pink and white dogwood trees. He would tell us stories about his 1928 hike from Yosemite Valley to Devil's Postpile. He would tell stories about Chief Tenaya and the Ahwahnee Valley. (As it was called before the white man came.)
As my kids grew up, I tried to pass some of his reverence for Yosemite on to them. Teaching them to look beyond the pavement to appreciate the grandeur of the valley. (Truth-be-told, their greatest memory of Yosemite was making mud balls on the banks of the Merced River and chucking them as far as they could into the icy water.)
Vanessa and Chris are planning a trip to the valley this summer. Chris has never been before. They will be too late to enjoy the blooming dogwoods, and the firefall has disappeared to help reduce Yosemite's carbon footprint, but I hope a they take time to look beyond the pavement and enjoy my grandfather's temple.